Derek laughed — an easy, careless laugh, like this was a story he'd already told a dozen times at dinner parties.
"We've got fifty million dollars walking through that door at two o'clock," he said. "Legal agrees I'll look a lot stronger heading into this IPO without a wife who doesn't fit the brand."
The words landed exactly where he wanted them to. I kept my face still anyway.
"So that's what I am now," I said. "A branding problem."
"It's business," Derek said, like the phrase erased two years of my life. "The prenup leaves you with nothing. But I'm not a monster. I'm being generous here."
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a black card, sliding it across the table with two fingers like he was tipping a valet.
"Take it. It'll cover a cheap apartment for a while. Think of it as payment for the two years I'll never get back."
